


Wings

by IStillPlayWithLegos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Coughing, Death, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mild Gore, Other, Sad, Sad Ending, Seriously there's no happy in this. Don't read if you're looking for a nice ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, Whump, major character death you have been warned, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IStillPlayWithLegos/pseuds/IStillPlayWithLegos
Summary: “Sor—” he gasped, trying to apologize.Your heart raced as you grabbed his hand, trying to console him through the coughing fit. “I know it hurts, Tooru. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”You didn’t deserve this. I wish I could make it all go away. I wish I could make you better.“Don’t—” He tried to choke out, coughing into his hand. “Don’t be sorry—”After several more painful coughs racked his body, he finally fell silent. He straightened up, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. It was only when he pulled it away that you noticed the blood-red tint on the fabric, one matching his lips. His right hand fell open to let you see the small, blue flower he held—Streaked with blood and crumpled from his tight grip.Forget-Me-Not—Remembrance during parting and death; True and undying love.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> So if you've followed me for a while you've probably read another version of this, but I hated it so I took it down last October. This is the revamped version and I'm actually happy with it (and by happy I mean sad-happy). 
> 
> Please read the fucking tags before you start. There's no happy in this. It's all sadness. Did you see the major character death tag? No? Well, this is your last warning.

Tooru Oikawa was seventeen years young when he first learned the true meaning of heartbreak. 

The sickness began slowly, the same way it always did. A slight cough tickled his throat for weeks until one day his hand held a faded pink lily petal. Alstroemeria. 

_Alstroemeria, or The Peruvian Lily—Friendship and Devotion_.

The next cough which racked his lithe frame gave way to a second petal, this one much brighter in color. A Gloxinia, he would later find out.

_Gloxinia—Love at first sight._

The weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years. Singular petals turned into flowers; Unnatural blue-thorned roses added to his misery. 

_Blue Rose—Unattainable or impossible love_.

They took root in his heart and lungs, thorns digging into the pulmonary arteries. The same arteries which had previously carried oxygen throughout his body now carried nothing but death. Death in the form of beautiful Lilies, Roses, and Gloxinias. 

And with that, his volleyball career ended before it could even truly begin. 

While not the official medical term, Hanahaki Disease was to blame for his suffering. Said to be caused by an unrequited love so strong, flowers began to bloom in the patient's heart. After that, there were three possible paths.

 **First** : The love interest returns their love. They confess to the patient and live a happily-ever-after life together.

 **Second** : A risky surgery that removes the flowers and roots from the patient's body. There is, however, a major drawback to this option. If successful, the patient lives survives the rest of their life unable to love.

 **Third** : Death.

Hospitals were notorious for smelling of antiseptic, but every time you walked past the room Tooru was situated in, you could smell the faint floral notes in the air, cutting through the acrid scent of sanitizer and bleach. As one of the few people who could be called Tooru’s friend, you were often subject to the flowery scent adhered to his person. But that was on a good day.

On a bad day, which had become more common in the passing weeks, the coppery scent was accompanied by the sounds of dry heaving, and quiet sobs which refused to be stifled by the limp, hospital pillow he was forced to sleep on.

January was a hard month. The dry, cold weather had always exacerbated his cough, but never enough to warrant a long-term hospital stay, until now, three years from the fall of the first petal. You walked into his room, back hunched, feeling somber, and stood at the foot of his bed.

“I spoke to the doctor,” you told him bluntly. “He says you’re dying.”

Not that he really needed you to remind him of the fact. But maybe hearing a friend say it would finally get it through that thick skull of his. He stared at you with blank eyes, looking resigned, and said nothing. A shell of his former self. No matter how much he tried to hide it, that was all that was left of him.

“Tooru, please,” you begged, fists clenching by your sides. “I’ve told you so many times. Please! You need to get the—”

“I won’t,” he retorted stubbornly. “I won’t let a doctor butcher me and leave me feeling nothing. I’d rather die alone than live a life without knowing what loving Iwa-chan feels like.”

_‘Love.’ How much longer could he put up this stubborn fight? It would only lead to more misery if he didn’t give in soon._

“You’re not even a quarter-of-the-way through your life, Tooru. How can you even understand what love is?” You asked shakily, raising your voice in frustration. 

“Love is…” he faltered. “Like you love your family, but different. It was always more intense. Obsessive almost. Being around him felt intoxicating. He was the only one who would put up with my bullshit, and I admired him for that. Then, like an idiot, I went and fell for him.”

You pulled over a chair from the corner of the room and sat down. 

“Tooru?” You began. “Do you think there’s a difference between love and obsession? Do—Where do you draw the line?

“I think…” he paused, mulling it over. “Obsession is some kind of warped version of love. You idolize the person and ignore all their flaws, putting them on a pedestal they might not necessarily deserve. Loving someone means you accept all their flaws, and care for them nonetheless. Of course, Iwa has flaws—”

_Does he even realize?_

“—I don’t deny that. I have flaws too. But I love him and all his flaws.” He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “It scares me sometimes,” he confessed.

“Hm?”

“He takes my breath away,” he murmured, voice beginning to trail off. “Figuratively and literally.”

He often joked like this, trying to make light of his situation. Of the death flowers rooted inside his chest. The same beautiful, deadly flowers which were causing him to slowly asphyxiate. 

The corners of his lips were upturned, the ghost of the flirtatious smirk he used to give, yet the melancholy look in his eyes gave him away. Glassy, welling with unshed tears. Just waiting for the right moment to fall. It was only a second before the look on his face wavered.

“I’m so scared,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I-I don’t wanna die. I’m terrified of death but the thought of forgetting how much I love him scares me even more. I’m not willing to live the rest of my life feeling nothing for him.”

You clenched your jaw in frustration, “You think a life without love suddenly isn’t worth living?”

“I know it’s not,” Tooru responded firmly, his voice sure. “I refuse—”

He hunched over suddenly, choking on his own words. The bed rocked with violent coughs brought on by this horrible sickness.

“Sor—” he gasped, trying to apologize.

Your heart raced as you grabbed his hand, trying to console him through the coughing fit. “I know it hurts, Tooru. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

 _You didn’t deserve this. I wish I could make it all go away. I wish I could make you better_.

“Don’t—” He tried to choke out, coughing into his hand. “Don’t be sorry—”

After several more painful coughs racked his body, he finally fell silent. He straightened up, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. It was only when he pulled it away that you noticed the blood-red tint on the fabric, one matching his lips. His right hand fell open to let you see the small, blue flower he held—Streaked with blood and crumpled from his tight grip.

_Forget-Me-Not—Remembrance during parting and death; True and undying love._

You held back a dry laugh. _Figures his love of Hajime Iwaizumi would transcend even the veil of death by which they were separated._

“This one’s new,” you observed.

“No,” Tooru responded in a fragile tone. “It’s not the first one.”

Looking away from you he pulled up the red-stained sleeve of his shirt and bared his wrist for you to see. 

“I noticed it last night,” he whispered, eyes falling closed.

His forearm had several spots bleeding sluggishly, the translucent skin seemingly having opened up from the inside. Approximately two inches below his wrist lay a second forget-me-not, this one such a dark, rusted shade of red that the blue went almost unnoticed. Dried blood surrounded the wound which led the thin stem of the flower back under his skin and into the vein from which it grew.

“The doctors say it’s spread too far already,” he mumbled uncharacteristically, nervously plucking at the bloody petals which grew from his veins. “The surgery can’t do anything to help me now. The most they can do is make me comfortable.”

“Tooru,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

“At least no one can yell at me for screwing up a serve anymore,” he joked, throwing up a peace sign and grinning shallowly. “Or the stress of going pro.”

“Please, Tooru. Be serious,” you begged.

He sighed and cleared his throat.

“I know how ridiculous it sounds, but seeing him, it was just pure joy. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, what little I have left, even if it’s just as teammates. Getting the surgery means going back to a time before I knew what loving Iwa-chan was like. And that’s something that I refuse to return to.”

“Love changes you, you mean?”

“You want to become a better person. You’re not just living for yourself anymore, you’re living for the both of you. Love is something that makes you want to change yourself for the better. You care for them so much that you want to become a better person to be worthy of them.”

“Haven’t you ever heard anyone say you shouldn’t change yourself for love?”

Smirking, he replied, “It’s not changing for love. It’s changing _because_ of love. Note the difference, smartass.”

Then his aura sobered once more.

“Death fucking terrifies me. But even so, I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m scared shitless, but I’m happy. Because of love. And I know you think I’m insane for that, but I’m not just thinking about myself for once. One day soon, I’ll die. We both know it. It’ll be sad, but you’ll live. For me, if not for yourself. I don’t want you to waste your life being sad over me.”

_Tooru… Please. You can’t ask that of me._

“So, what?” You ask angrily. “Even if you die, life goes on as happily as it’s always been?”

“I suppose, yes. Eventually,” he reassured. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of this more than he was trying to convince you. Not that he would ever succeed. The two of you would never see eye to eye on his decision. 

_I think I’d fall apart without you._

“And Hajime? What about him,” you probed, hoping to push his buttons enough to get a reaction out of him.

“What do you mean?”

“Would your precious Iwa-chan be pleased with you if you died?”

Tooru frowned. It was like he was trying to find any reason he could to back up his death wish.

“You two have known each other since you were kids. Do you honestly think he’d be happy with you dead? Would he be happy to know that you’ve given up and practically thrown yourself off the deep end already?”

Oikawa laughed. A real laugh for once, one as light as the tinkling of a bell.

“I’d like to think he’d be happy to have me as company. But, no,” he admitted. “I know he’ll be furious with me—Probably will try to get me kicked out or something. Fuck—He’s gonna so mad.”

His eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking deeply about something. The corners of his lips began to quiver and turn down. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. Tooru’s eyes became glassy and he swallowed, trying to conceal the lump in his throat.

“Do you think they gave him wings?” He asked, his voice hitching.

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes, “I bet he’s watching over us right now. And if I had to guess, he’s probably getting ready to smack the back of your head for being such an idiot.”

“Hey…” he trailed off, looking away from you. “Do-Do you think they’ll give me wings?” He asked finally

_Tooru, stop. Please._

“I have no doubts. And I bet your wings will be twice as beautiful.”

_Maybe one day I’ll get to see them for myself._

A thick blanket of silence fell over the room. It was obvious neither of you knew what to say to the other.

After a few moments, you asked him, “If love leads to so much suffering, wouldn’t the surgery be the rational choice?”

“Who said anything about love being rational?” He said looking up at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m just tired. I know I’m dying, and I’m happy knowing that when I die, I’ll be with him.”

“Tooru, please—”

He grabbed your hand suddenly. His hands were cold against yours. And sticky. Sticky with bright red proof of just how much Tooru Oikawa knew what love truly meant.

“You gotta promise me you won’t linger over me when I’m gone.”

_How can you ask that of me?_

“Tooru—”

“Please don’t make it harder than it already is,” he begged you desperately, eyes beginning once again to well with tears. “You’ll be alright.”

_I won’t._

“Maybe not at first, but one day you’ll find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

_It’s you. It’s always been you._

He kept going, every word a blunt knife to your chest, “You-You’re my sister in everything but blood.”

_Break my heart even more, why don’t you._

“I couldn’t bear to watch you destroy yourself over me.”

_I wish you and Hajime had never met._

He was crying now. Fat droplets of tears dropped onto your hand which he gripped onto like a lifeline. Your eyes burned and you could feel your throat start to close—Panic slowly setting in.

A deep breath caught in your throat and you forced out a cough. You stood up suddenly, unable to control your breathing—Continuing to cough painfully. You didn’t know how long you stood there, in front of him. Coughing and dry heaving into your hand. When it finally stopped, your hand held a small cluster of white flowers, adorned with beads of bright red blood. 

“You—” He gasped, hands flying out to clutch desperately at your jacket. “Oh god.”

You looked away.

“That—That’s hemlock.”

You said nothing, your throat still burning.

“Please,” he begged, tears flowing steadily from his eyes. “Tell me who.”

You scoffed and turned away, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

_Why couldn’t you love me instead?_

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your voice shook as you responded, “It wasn’t your burden to bear. You can’t ask me, Tooru. Don’t ask me.”

“Please,” he pleaded once again. “Please, who is it?”

“I hate you,” you whispered. Still standing as you turned away from him.

_I love you._

“Who is it?” He asked one last time.

You grabbed your coat and walked towards the door.

“No, come—Come back! Please don’t go…”

You looked back at him once more. Even with tear tracks marring his face, he was beautiful. An angel sent to walk the earth. To seduce you. To teach you love. Life. And then to take your heart and crack it to pieces. But you knew, no matter how shattered your heart was, that you would forgive him in a heartbeat. If there was even the smallest chance that he would give up on the idea of loving Hajime, you would risk it. After all, humans were made to be selfish creatures. 

“You,” you admitted softly, walking out the door. “It’s always been you, and it always will be.”

His violent sobs ricocheted off the walls, following you down the hallway. 

“Please come back,” you heard him beg one last time.

_Tooru. Please don’t hate me for this._

You stopped in the hallway for a moment to examine the bloody flowers still in your hand. You choked out a dry laugh to yourself. Fitting that these would be the ones to signify the beginning of your end.

_Hemlock—You will be my death._

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed it. Now go read something fluffy to make yourself feel better.


End file.
